


Friendship, Love, Desire, Regret

by alynwa



Series: Sugar and Spies Tales [21]
Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 16:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melody asks questions about the future that raise concerns for Illya and Napoleon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendship, Love, Desire, Regret

Friday night was Illya’s weekend date night and he was preparing to go out for the evening. He had been dating Melody Beauchamp of the Translations department whenever he and Napoleon were in town for the last year or so. Tonight, they were heading to Chinatown for dinner. 

 

He showered and dressed in one of his favorite outfits; a black turtleneck with black corduroy pants, socks, and shoes. It wasn’t so much a “favorite” as it was his other look; he either wore an off the rack suit and tie or a turtleneck and slacks. His partner loved to tease him about his lack of fashion, but Melody didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she had told him she liked never having to worry about her clothing clashing with his. 

 

He was looking forward to seeing Melody; he and Napoleon had been in Argentina for almost two weeks quelling a THRUSH – backed political coup. At the affair’s conclusion, his partner, as usual, had charmed and made a date with Senorita Suarez, the Innocent who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up being caught up in their adventure. He, as usual, went back to their hotel room with a bottle of vodka and a meal of ravioli, pizza and dulce de leche stuffed pastry as he preferred to wait until he was with Melody to address his body’s urges.

 

He walked into the kitchen where Napoleon was preparing dinner under the watchful eye of their daughter who was seated at the counter where he was assembling their salad as the water boiled for the pasta. “Daddy,” she was saying, “I want more ‘matoes and less cucummers in the salad, please. Oh, and more olives, too please.”

 

Napoleon stopped what he was doing and leaned into her space. “These are called _tomatoes and cucumbers_.” He smiled broadly and kissed her nose when she repeated the words correctly. “And who are you anyway, Julia Child?”

 

The little girl’s smile faded quickly. “It’s me, Daddy, Leona Nicole!” She looked anxiously at Illya and exclaimed, “Papa, tell Daddy who I am!” 

 

Napoleon had to turn around to hide his laughter.

 

“Do not worry, Leona, Daddy knows who you are; he was just trying to be funny,” Illya said, “Now come give me a hug and kiss, Papa is going out and you’ll be asleep by the time I come home.” He picked her up and hugged her close while she kissed his cheek. “I love you, Leona Nicole, very much.” He glanced over at his partner, who was struggling not to laugh out loud as he poured spaghetti into the boiling water. “I’ll see you later. Stop teasing the baby.”

 

Napoleon waved without turning around while Illya returned Leona to her seat. He grabbed his coat, headed off to the elevator and caught a cab to Melody’s. From there, they decided to walk down to Pell Street in Chinatown to a restaurant Melody said she wanted to try.

 

Melody had learned over time that the Russian wasn’t much of a conversationalist during meals. Before the food arrives, he is talkative and charming; however, once he is served, he eats with a single-mindedness that she used to find mildly disturbing until she realized that most Section Two agents eat like every meal is their last, though Illya was more passionate about food than most. Since he ate faster than she did, he would be back to his delightful charming self and entertaining her while she ate. She looked up to see he was watching her intently.

 

“What?”

 

The Russian gave her a half – smile that was both sexy and shy and made things deep within her quiver with desire. “Has anyone ever told you,” he asked in a soft, husky voice as he reached across the table to stroke her arm, “that the way you slurp the noodles in your vegetable lo mein is very, very sensual? And, that it is enough to give a man…ideas?”

 

She smiled as the last of her noodle disappeared into her pursed lips. “Why, Mr. Kuryakin, are you trying to seduce me?”

 

“If I am?”

 

She leaned back and smiled. She caught the waiter’s eye, held up her hands and used her right hand to pretend to write on her left palm, the universal New York City sign that says “Check, please.” She slid her tongue along her lower lip and breathed, “It’s working.”

 

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

 

Illya flopped back onto the bed breathing heavily and pulled Melody to his side. They laid there relaxing in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Melody was struck once again with the realization that even though Illya was a Section Two UNCLE agent, by definition an extremely dangerous man, he was a gentle, thoughtful, unselfish lover who behaved as though his personal mission was to give her pleasure.

He kissed her forehead and murmured, “I missed you, mой сладкий цветочный (my sweet flower).”

 

“так, как я упустил вас, дорогой (Not as much as I missed you, Sweetheart),” she responded. One of the reasons they got on so well together was that Melody was fluent in Russian. No one else Illya knew in America was fluent; Napoleon could understand and speak basic Russian phrases but, only Melody could converse with him in his Mother Tongue. He knew he shouldn’t but, he found himself drawn to her; he was really quite fond of her. 

 

“Illya, may I ask you something?”

 

“Of course. What do you want to know?”

 

She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “How do you like being a parent?”

 

He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “I never thought I would have the opportunity to have children, but I am enjoying the time I spend with Leona; she is so bright and articulate and _funny_. Napoleon and I continue to be amazed by her.”

 

“Do you ever, I mean, have you ever…thought about what would happen if you, or Napoleon for that matter, wanted to marry after you left the field?” Illya sat up a bit which forced Melody to move off him. She sat against the headboard and said, “I mean, Leona would have to live with one of you. Which one would it be?”

 

He shrugged his shoulders. “In truth,” he replied, “I have not given the matter any thought; I am more focused on _surviving_ the field and I believe Napoleon feels the same way. Why do you ask?”

 

She blushed, a fact she couldn’t hide given the state of her undress. “Well, I only ask because you know what will happen if either one or both of you don’t survive the field, but what if you both _do_? I mean, um,” she stammered, “um, if one of you wanted to get married, I assume you two would no longer be roommates…”

 

Illya interrupted her, “Melody, I am not comfortable discussing this with you now; you’re talking about something, that if it were to happen, would not occur for at least ten years. What I would like to talk about, however,” he whispered as he slid down beside her, “is this,” as he kissed her temple, “and this,” as he moved to kiss her nose, “and _this_ ,” and his mouth covered hers and there was no more talking.

 

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

 

Illya opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust before disentangling himself from Melody and stealthily climbing out of bed. She stirred, but didn’t wake. He picked up his clothes and holster and headed off to the bathroom to shower. When he had dressed, he came back into the room and sat on the bed next to her. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, Melody, I am going home. I will call you later today, alright?”

 

Melody mumbled “Ummhmm” and fell back asleep (if she had even been awake in the first place). He couldn’t blame her; after all, it was 4:30 in the morning. It had become his habit that he would sleep with her after lovemaking, but get up to go home before Leona woke up. She wasn’t particularly thrilled with him doing that, but she understood and she was used to it.

 

He walked through the front door of the penthouse at five – thirty, reset the alarms and entered the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. He opened up the copy of the New York Times he had bought on the way in, poured a cup, sat on a stool and bent over to peruse the paper as he sipped his brew. He was grateful for the silence he heard throughout; it meant that his partner and his daughter were still abed, even if they weren’t asleep.

 

About twenty minutes later, he heard Napoleon padding down the hall toward the kitchen. He came into the kitchen in his pajamas and bathrobe, forelock hanging between his eyes and wordlessly poured himself a cup of coffee and took a few sips before looking at Illya and saying, “Bless you, my son, for making this nectar of the gods.”

 

The Russian nodded silently and went back to his paper while Napoleon started to pull out pots and pans to make breakfast. “I’m making oatmeal and banana for Leona. Do you have any preferences for breakfast?” When the blond shook his head no, Napoleon said, “Illya, are you OK? You’re not the most demonstrative of people, but for someone who presumably ‘got some’ last night you do seem a bit melancholy.”

 

Illya grimaced and snarled, “Don’t be crude, Napoleon. You are speaking about someone I see semi – regularly, not one of your ‘fly by night’ associations!”

 

Napoleon’s eyes widened briefly in surprise at the insult thrown his way and then narrowed in anger. Before he could say anything, Illya sat up and said, “I am sorry, Napoleon, what I said was uncalled for; I apologize.”

 

“Forget about it, I’ll live. What I want to know however is: What has you so tense?”

 

The sea blue eyes looked into the chocolate brown ones and then down at the floor. “You know one of the worst things a Section Two agent can do is assume he will survive the field. Melody asked me something that made me think about life after the field. I was able to change the subject but…”

 

“You’re still thinking about it. So, want to share?”

 

“Napoleon, what do you hope to see happen in ten years?”

 

“Assuming we live to see it? I hope by then you will have learned how to cook so I won’t have to so often. Is that what Melody wanted to know? What you hope to see happen?”

 

“She wanted to know who Leona Nicole would live with if we both survived the field and one or both of us wanted to marry.”

 

Napoleon turned back to the stove to stir the oatmeal and to keep his partner from seeing his face. Softly, he responded, “You are the parent of record; I would only have full custody in the event I survived and you didn’t. So, if you and Melody married, Leona would be leaving with you when you moved out.”

 

Illya noted the set of Napoleon’s shoulders and sighed, “Napoleon, look at me.” When he did, Illya said, “You are Leona’s parent as much as I am. That will never change. As far as I am concerned, we will raise that little girl into a young woman of at least eighteen and probably twenty – two together. That is not the problem. The problem is…”

 

“Telling Melody,” Napoleon said knowingly, ‘It certainly sounds like she thinks she has a future with you. Does she?”

 

Just then, they heard a frightened yelp from Leona’s room. In a flash, both men converged on the pink and white bedroom; Illya with his Special hidden behind his back. Napoleon went into the room first and when he got to her bed, Leona grabbed him around his neck crying. Illya had paused at the doorway long enough to determine that there was no visible threat and slipped his weapon back into its holster unseen by the little girl.

 

Napoleon patted her back and did his best to soothe her as Illya, just to make sure, looked in the bathroom, the closets and glanced under the bed. “Daddy,” she cried, “there was a monster and I couldn’t find you or Papa! I was scared!”

 

“It was just a bad dream, baby, just a bad dream. Papa and I are right here. See? Papa looked everywhere and there is no monster. Right, Papa?”

 

Illya reached over and took the toddler into his arms, bouncing her gently as he walked around the room. “Right,” he answered, ‘Daddy, why don’t you go save the oatmeal from burning while I make sure she uses the bathroom and gets ready to eat?”

 

Napoleon nodded and as he headed back to the kitchen, he heard Leona say to Illya, “I’m so happy Daddy and you are here!” He smiled to himself and thought, _So am I, little girl, so am I_.

 

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

 

The morning flew by swiftly. Leona had calmed down and eaten her breakfast with her parents. Afterwards, the Russian bathed and dressed her in jeans, a pullover sweater and sneakers as Napoleon had told him that Rosie Greer had called the night before to ask if Leona could spend the day at the zoo with them. They had picked her up at ten o’clock and said they would have her home by six.

 

Napoleon had brought work home and was working in their home office still dressed in his bathrobe when Illya entered dressed in black jeans, black button down shirt and black shoes. He looked at the blond and grinned before turning his attention back to the folder in front of him. “Motorcycle gang funeral?” he mused.

 

“Why you do not quit UNCLE for standup comedy continues to baffle me,” the Russian replied acerbically. He sat opposite Napoleon at his desk. “I am meeting Melody for lunch. I never answered you this morning. Are you still curious?”

 

Napoleon looked up from the report he was reading. “You told me what I really needed to know, thank you for that. You don’t have to tell me anymore.”

 

Illya leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk. “I think I want to tell you more. I am going to pursue the discussion Melody started last night and if she does not or cannot accept my position, this luncheon will be our last date.”

 

“Well, whether it is or not, I’ll be available to listen, Partner Mine.”

 

The Russian stood to leave. “Thank you, Napoleon, that means a lot to me,” he said sincerely, “I will see you later.”

 

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

 

Melody and Illya met at Dorrian’s Red Hand, a bar on the East Side and after lunch, they went for a walk over to Carl Schurz Park. They saw an unoccupied bench so they decided to sit and look at the East River and the Borough of Queens on the other side of it. They sat arm in arm in silence for a few minutes until Illya thought, _Well, it is now or never_.

 

“Melody, I think we need to talk to make sure we understand each other,” he started, “you asked me last night what would happen to Leona if Napoleon or I got married. May I ask why?”

 

She blushed to the roots of her hair so, he waited. When she realized that he wasn’t going to speak, she cleared her throat a couple of times and finally stammered, “Um, well, I asked because, well because I know that as a Section Two agent, you’re not encouraged to have a relationship, but we’ve been seeing each other whenever you’re in town and you and Napoleon were given permission to break protocol when you adopted Leona and…” she almost looked trapped. “”And, and, and I was wondering if there would be an ‘us’ when you retire from the field.” That last part came out in a rush of words as if she were afraid she would lose her nerve before she could get them out of her mouth.

 

Illya sighed and ran his hand along her jaw line. He lifted her right hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. He turned slightly so he could look her in the face and said, “Melody, I am very, very fond of you. You know this. However, I cannot and will not offer you any type of commitment. Melody, I told you last night that I am only concerned with surviving the field and ensuring that my Chief Enforcement Agent also survives. Nine years is a long time and there is no guarantee either one of us will live that long. I refuse to have you enter a waiting game that could bring you nothing but regret. I want you to be happy; that means I expect you to live your life fully and you cannot do that sitting home waiting to see if I return from a mission. I would never ask you to do that, it would be so unfair.”

 

Melody whipped her chestnut brown hair away from her face and exclaimed, “You’re not asking, I’m offering! Don’t you want to get married one day and provide Leona with a brother or sister?”

 

“She already has a sister; Napoleon and I consider Paige Greer to be her sister. And to answer your other question, I don’t _know_ if I want to marry. Please understand, I cannot afford to distract myself with ‘what if’ scenarios; they could be the death of me and my partner.”

 

“Let me give you a ‘what if’, Melody. What if you commit yourself to me now and I do survive the field and decide I do not want to marry you? Would you not feel like I had kept you from living the life you _could_ have lived?”

 

“You wouldn’t do that to me.”

 

Illya leaned closer to her. “You cannot say that because _I_ do not know that! I had hoped that because you are an UNCLE employee, you would be able to understand the reality of my situation, but sadly, I do not think you do. So, as much as it distresses me to do, I will not be seeing you anymore.”

 

Melody was shocked and gasped, “Illya, you don’t, you can’t mean that! I, I _love_ you! I thought you felt the same way.”

 

“I told you that I am very fond of you; I never said that I love you. I do _not_ love you because I cannot love you. But, because I do care about you, I want you to be happy. I want you to find someone to love who can reciprocate those feelings, who can come home to you every night, someone who wants you to be the mother of his children. I cannot promise I will be able to do any of those things. I am sorry.”

 

She had gotten over her initial astonishment and was now sitting ramrod straight after having listened to what Illya had to say. She nodded her head and stood up. As she prepared to leave she looked down at the Russian stone-faced and said in low tones, “I am not as naïve and pathetic as you might think, Illya. I said I love you and it’s true, I do, but only a fool of a female UNCLE employee would exclusively date a Section Two agent. There is someone else, Illya; there always has been. His name is Jonas Williston and he works in Human Resources. He’s a good man, everything you say you want for me and I was willing to just keep him as a safety net instead of pursuing a full relationship with him because I preferred you. But, since you no longer care to continue our relationship, I will give him the time and attention he deserves. So, do not be sorry for me, Illya Kuryakin. If you want to be anything, be regretful. I’m going to catch a cab. Goodbye, Illya”

 

Illya sat on the bench for another hour before heading home. He kept vacillating between feeling relieved, feeling foolish and feeling regret. _She is not heartbroken and she is moving on with her life, I should be happy; I have what I wanted_ , he thought as he got up to begin the walk back to the penthouse. _But I’m not_.

 

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

 

Illya entered the apartment, reset the alarms and went in search of his daughter and partner. Not finding them in the original apartment, he went to the other half of the apartment which used to be the penthouse next door before Napoleon bought it and knocked down the dividing wall. There, he found the brunet in the office, still dressed in his pajamas and reading agents’ reports. “Hello,” he greeted his partner as he sat on the couch.

 

Napoleon looked up and immediately knew something was not quite right. “Hi,” he answered, “What’s going on?”

 

“Melody and I will not be spending any more time together.”

 

“Ah. You thought that was a possibility before you left to meet her.”

 

The Russian nodded, “Yes, I did. However, my ego got deflated a bit when she told me she had been seeing someone else in UNCLE.”

 

“What? Another agent? Who would dare?”

 

“Jonas Williston of Human Resources. Apparently, he was her safety net. I imagine I should be relieved that she will be fine but…Napoleon, this new breed of woman is not the delicate little damsel waiting around for ‘The One’ that we are used to. I may have told her it is over between us, but she is the one who will not be alone tonight.”

 

“I, ah, have a date tonight, but I can cancel if you want and hang out here with you and Leona Nicole.”

 

Illya smiled, “No, thank you, my friend. I am looking forward to spending time with our little girl. I told her that I would play Candy Land with her. I’m going to leave you to your work; I have some periodicals I’ve been putting off reading.” He stood up and walked to the door. Before he went through, he turned and said, “Napoleon?”

 

“Yes, Illya?”

 

“I really do appreciate your offer to cancel. You are a true friend and I am honored that you would put my emotional well – being ahead of your libido. I’ve said it before and I will say it again: At least we have each other. See you later.”

 

Napoleon watched him go and then went back to reading what seemed like the latest in a never-ending stack of reports. _That we do, Tovarisch, that we do._


End file.
